


Always the Last to Know

by CalvinPitt



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: 17 just wants to annoy his sister, 18's in denial, 4+1, Chestnutfest 2020, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Relationship Reveal, bulma's nosy, chi-chi sees all, krillin's oblivious, yamcha's confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalvinPitt/pseuds/CalvinPitt
Summary: If you asked Krillin or 18, they'd say they were just friends.Their friends and family aren't buying it.
Relationships: Android 18/Krillin (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Always the Last to Know

**Author's Note:**

> I picked the "Relationship Reveal" theme for this year's K/18 day. I didn't go in intending to make it one of those "4+1" stories, but halfway through I realized that's what I did. This takes place somewhere within the first two years post-Cell Games.

If you asked 18 or Krillin, they’d both insist they were friends. 

Their friends and family weren’t buying it for a minute.

* * *

Chi-Chi was the first to bring it up. After Gohan defeated Cell, Krillin made regular visits to the Son household to check in on the boy and his re-widowed mother. Run errands or help with housework. Give Gohan a chance for some free time, or the increasingly pregnant Chi-Chi a chance to get off her feet. Or just give either of them a chance to vent.

Chi-Chi noticed Krillin mentioning the blonde cyborg increasingly often in their chats, and insisted he bring her along the next time.

_‘Really, Krillin, you just go off and leave her in that house with those two perverts for company?!’_

_‘Well, I think Oolong and Master Roshi have a lot more to fear from her – ‘_

It took a few tries on Krillin’s part, but 18 eventually relented. She never admitted it aloud, but she was extremely nervous about meeting the widow of the man Gero expected her to kill. But Krillin asked nicely, and looked so hopeful she would get along with his friends, well, she couldn’t just say no.

(The fact she would give in at all, when she was normally incredibly stubborn, should have been a clue, but 18 stubbornly, of course, refused to consider the implications.)

Months later, 18 found herself sitting at a table outside the Son’s modest home, sipping iced tea and talking with a woman she now considered not just Krillin’s friend, but her own. (It still seemed strange she had friends of her own). She was even holding Goten on her lap. She’d been wary the first time Chi-Chi held the spiky-haired baby out to her. How could Chi-Chi trust an engine of destruction with her child? 18 barely trusted herself. But Chi-Chi assured her it would be fine, helping her to hold the baby properly, then sitting back and picking up their conversation where it left off.

Now, 18 actually felt comfortable, reasonably certain she wouldn’t accidentally crush Goten. It helped the half-Saiyan’s attention was fixed on his older brother and Krillin, who were doing some fishing in the nearby lake. “Fishing” might not have been accurate, since it didn’t seem like Gohan using his ki to swamp Krillin with a small wave would do anything other than scare the fish, but 18 figured that was their business.

Krillin had tossed his drenched shirt aside and was trying to return the favor. Focused as he was on avoiding Gohan’s counterattacks (or trying to), he didn’t notice the blue eyes locked on to his every movement. Chi-Chi did.

“So, how are things between you and Krillin?” She asked it casually, taking a polite sip of her tea.

18 startled slightly, like coming out of a trance. “Huh?”

Chi-Chi smiled and repeated her question. She had a lot of experience trying to talk to people whose thoughts were elsewhere. 18 shrugged. “Good, I guess. We went to South City last week. I wanted to pick out some new outfits.”

“And you took Krillin along?”

“It’s nice to have a second opinion, and Krillin seems to have a good idea what looks good on me.”

Chi-Chi hummed. “And that was it?"

“We got some food, at this stir fry place I heard about I thought he might like. Then we went to a movie.”

“Really? What movie, a love story?”

Something about the way her friend said that made the cyborg stare at her a little more closely. “No, I’m not into that lovey-dovey stuff. A werewolf movie.”

“Oh.”

“Krillin doesn’t like horror much, but I was able to convince him. This one wasn’t even really scary, the effects were cra-not good.” 18 remembered Chi-Chi didn’t appreciate cursing in front of her sons just in time.

“How you’d convince Krillin?”

“By asking.” When she first moved in, 18 just threatened him. Then she figured out she didn’t need to. If she just asked, he’d usually help, if he could.

“Well, it sounds like a lovely date.” Chi-Chi turned casually away as she spoke, like she just wanted to watch her older son play for a bit.

18’s eyes widened. _“Date?!”_

Chi-Chi glanced towards her innocently. “Well, yes. Goku and I went on a few as well. Though not until after we were married, but I suppose our relationship was a little unusual. Is it very different when you’re just starting out?”

18 would have jumped out of her chair if not for the fact Goten was asleep in her arms. “Krillin and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends!” 

Chi-Chi nodded sympathetically and patted 18 on the knee. “Of course you are.”

* * *

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Yamcha wiped his palms on his gi nervously, eyes moving back and forth between one of his oldest friends, and said friend’s. . . well, Yamcha wasn’t sure what Android 18 was to Krillin.

The former bandit and the former monk met up about once a month. They’d spar a little, possibly the last two students of the Turtle School trying to keep their skills sharp. Yamcha might be a baseball player to the world at large, but he still considered himself a martial artist. He didn’t feel like he was getting any stronger – Krillin was definitely ahead of him and the gap wasn’t narrowing – but he could at least maintain his level.

More importantly, it was a chance to catch up on each other’s lives. Yamcha’s baseball career, or any amusing stories Krillin had from the odd jobs he worked on the islands nearest Kame House to earn a little money. Yamcha still visited Bulma occasionally – they got along much better as friends than as a couple – so he’d update Krillin on the latest from Capsule Corp, and his friend would do the same with news from the Son household.

They’d also discuss their love lives, although that was mostly Yamcha. At least until he had idly asked about _‘that one girl’_. He meant Maron, but Krillin responded, “Oh, 18’s doing pretty well. I think she’s just about got Master Roshi and Oolong trained not to try anything. She’s still not much of a morning person, though.”

Yamcha’s jaw hit the sand. “18? You mean _Android 18?!_ You’re hittin’ that?!”

Krillin had waved his hands back and forth, palms facing out. “Nonono, she’s just living at Kame House with us! She took Goku’s old room. I’m sure I told you that.”

“Uh no, you definitely didn’t, man!”

After that, Yamcha always made sure to ask for updates. For all that Krillin insisted the cyborg was a private person, he seemed to know a surprising amount about her. That she preferred coffee to tea. That she loved video games and cards games, and wasn’t above cheating at both. That she apparently couldn’t get drunk, something Roshi and Oolong learned painfully when she agreed to a drinking contest against them. (Krillin refereed, since he, it was agreed by all, including him, was a total lightweight.)

At some point, the blonde started tagging along when Krillin would meet Yamcha at one of Master Roshi’s isolated training islands. Yamcha was extremely nervous around her, and the first time she came along, he couldn’t quite focus on fighting Krillin, worried she might decide to attack.

(I mean, the first product of Gero’s work he encountered was the doctor himself, and he _punched a hole through Yamcha’s chest_. Yamcha thought he was entitled to be nervous.)

As it turned out, 18 never got more involved than throwing out dry commentary and insults about both of their fighting styles until she grew bored and wandered off. Yamcha found it distracting, but Krillin seemed to hardly notice. Sometimes he would even toss a smart-ass remark back at her.

Today, though, Yamcha lost his temper. In his defense, she described the Wolf Fang Fist as _‘like a kid slap fighting’_. He’d spun on his heel to glare at her, and shouted, “You think you can do better?!”

18 raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow – on another day, he’d have wondered if her hair ever grew – and responded, “Obviously.”

It wasn’t until she hopped off the rock she’d been sitting on and walked up to him Yamcha realized what a mistake he’d made. Seriously, he was in his mid-30s, shouldn’t he be smarter than this by now?

Apparently not, because now he was stuck fighting a cyborg strong enough to beat up a Super Saiyan. Krillin tried to play peacemaker, but only succeeded in being tasked with fighting alongside Yamcha. He didn’t seem worried, though.

“It’ll be good practice,” he said reasonably. “When’s the last time you fought someone other than me?”

“When one of those baby Cells broke my arm,” Yamcha replied flatly.

“Oh. Right.” Krillin rubbed a hand through the dark fuzz growing on his head. “Well, 18 won’t do that.”

“Vegeta.”

“Oh. Right. But that was different! He picked that fight by running his mouth and –“ the shorter man trailed off, before turning to their opponent. “18! You won’t break any of Yamcha’s bones will you?”

18 stood with arms crossed, one corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. If Yamcha wasn’t terrified, he’d admit it was pretty hot. “I’ll try, but that depends on how fragile he is.”

Krillin turned back to his friend with a big smile. Yamcha didn’t see how that was reassuring.

The fight actually went better than Yamcha expected. They didn’t win of course, but they landed a few hits. OK, _Krillin_ landed a few hits. Usually while 18 was in the process of hitting Yamcha. His buddy seemed to have a knack for finding her blind spots, or reading her punches and kicks enough so he could juuuuust slip past them. 

The ending was the truly surprising part. Krillin ducked under a spinning backfist 18 threw and landed a solid uppercut. It knocked 18 back a step, but when Krillin tried to press the advantage, he ran gut-first into her foot and went skidding across the beach. Yamcha tried to attack, but she caught it with one hand.

“OK, that’s enough.”

And with that, she floated over to Krillin as he sat up.

“You OK there?”

Krillin let out a wheezy chuckle. “Yeah, sure, just peachy. Good kick.”

She rolled her eyes, but Yamcha didn’t miss one corner of her mouth turning up. It looked less dangerous when she aimed it at Krillin. “Helps when you run right into it. Maybe don’t do that.”

She reached down with one hand to take his arm and helped him to his feet. “Now why didn’t Master Roshi ever teach me that?”

“Because that section of his training pamphlet is buried under aerobics tapes?”

“I’ll have you know it’s a training _manual_ ,” Krillin responded drily. “Big as a phonebook, actually.”

“He probably padded it with dirty magazines.”

“Um, I’m gonna head on back, OK?” Yamcha wasn’t sure what was going on, but it was kind of weird. From the startled looks on their faces, they’d forgotten he was even there. The cyborg let go of Krillin’s arm like it scalded her and took one step back. 

Krillin didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll call ya in a couple of weeks, OK Yamcha?”

“Sure thing buddy. Get some ice on those ribs.”

He watched the two of them fly back to Kame House. Yamcha was pretty sure 18 put out an arm to steady Krillin as they flew away. He stood there, scratching his head, before shrugging and turning for home.

At least he didn’t end up with any broken bones. So much for _fragile_ , thank you very much.

* * *

Since most of her fight-happy friends were apparently just fine with waiting until the next world-threatening cataclysm to get in touch, Bulma took it upon herself to organize a party at Capsule Corp a couple of years after the Cell games. Some of them were harder to get a hold of than others, but Bulma was an expert on leveraging what she had. It was pretty easy to get Gohan to invite Dende, and that included Piccolo.

(Not that Piccolo was the life of the party, but Bulma liked to make sure he was still just stoic, rather than tyrannical like his father, or whatever King Piccolo was to him. Plus, it gave Vegeta someone to sit around and scowl with.)

She’d been looking forward to seeing how much everyone had changed, or not. What she hadn’t expected was for Krillin, Roshi, and Oolong to show up with a fourth person. She remembered Yamcha mentioned that the cyborg – Bulma didn’t think “artificial human” fit, since Gero’s blueprints clearly showed 18 and 17 had been regular people originally, before that twisted genius got ahold of them – had taken up residence at Kame House, but hadn’t thought much about it after that.

It took some time for her to make her way over, but by the time she did (two hours into the party and nothing’s blown up yet), Chi-Chi was already chatting with 18 at the edge of the festivities.

“It’s hard to believe they all get along this well,” the blonde commented. “Gero had all these recordings of them trying to kill each other.”

“They can always talk about fighting, even if they aren’t doing any,” Chi-Chi grumbled. “I just hope they don’t start exertin’ a bad influence on Gohan again! He’s gotta focus on his studies!”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Chi-Chi,” Bulma interjected, stepping in front of both of them. “Bulma Briefs, nice to meet you, Miss -?”

The blonde shook her hand lightly, but didn’t immediately release it. “18 is fine. So _you’re_ the one who built the remote to shut me off.”

Bulma didn’t hear an overt threat in there, exactly, and she kind of wanted her hand back. Still, she refused to back down. “Yeah, I did. Krillin told you, I’m guessing.”

18 seemed pleased with the response, and let go. “I asked him. He also told me you were expecting 17 and I to wipe out humanity. It made a little more sense, then.”

“But you didn’t, so now we can be friends!” Chi-Chi stated cheerfully. Bluma wondered if she was a bit tipsy.

“Chi-Chi’s not wrong. Did Krillin tell you about all that?”

The blonde had held Bulma’s gaze steadily up to then, but her eyes darted to one side now. “Gero put some information up here,” she gestured vaguely to her skull, “but it was mostly recordings of fights and techniques. It didn’t really explain how Piccolo goes from trying to kill Goku to working with him.”

“Krillin’s good at explaining. He makes it interesting, does voices.” She smiled, a genuinely happy one.

“Oh really?” Given the knowing look on Chi-Chi’s face, Bulma wasn’t the only one picking up on something there. “You two talk a lot, huh? Walking on the beach, under the moonlight?”

She could almost see 18’s guard go up like a physical wall. she pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged one shoulder. “Not a lot else to do on that island, especially when the two pigs are hogging the TV.”

“I’m gonna go mess with Yamcha.” With that, 18 vanished. Bulma was left blinking at an empty spot.

“Bulma,” Chi-Chi shook her head. “I know you don’t have much use for subtlety with a husband like Vegeta, but you can’t just barge forward like that. You spooked her.”

“I bet I can get something out Krillin, though.” 

Bulma spied her old friend and headed in his direction. Abruptly, she stopped and spun around. “Wait, what do _you_ know about subtlety? You married Goku!”

Chi-Chi wasn’t there, only a very confused Puar.

Krillin was chatting with Dende and Gohan when Bulma marched up. “Hey guys! It’s like a Namek reunion!”

Gohan gave her a bright smile, Dende bowed slightly in greeting. “Thank you for inviting me, Miss Bulma.”

“Pfft! Think nothing of it! You’re a friend, too, and it never hurts to be on God’s good side!” She added teasingly. “You’re not going to get in trouble mingling with us mortals, are you?”

Dende looked startled, a worried frown forming. “I, I don’t think so. At least, Piccolo and Mr. Popo didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it. But I am still very new to the position. . .”

“Dende buddy,” Krillin patted the young Namekian on the shoulder. “She’s just yanking your chain.” At the Guardian’s blank look, he further explained. “Joking.”

The whole scene was pretty funny, but things were getting off track. Bulma had a mission. “Krillin, I wasn’t expecting you to bring 18 along.”

“Huh? Is it a problem? She’s not going to cause any trouble.” He glanced over Gohan’s shoulder. “Unless Yamcha forgets I told him she can’t get drunk and accepts a drinking contest.”

Bulma waved one hand like she was shooing a fly. “I’m not worried about _that_. Wouldn’t be the first time Yamcha puked in the garden. I just didn’t know you two were that close.”

Krillin’s cheeks colored slightly. “Well, she’s been living with us out there for over a year. I think we’re pretty good friends now.”

“I’ll bet.” Bulma arched one eyebrow. “It’s not a big house. Are you two sharing a room?”

A panicked look appeared on her friend’s face. “No! She took Goku’s old room! We read in each other’s rooms sometimes, but that’s it! What are Master Roshi and Oolong telling you?”

“I haven’t talked to the old man or the pig,” Bulma said, “ _yet._ ”

Krillin’s eyes searched desperately for an escape. Then Gohan spoke up. “But Krillin, Miss 18 knows you’re in love with her.”

“Oh-ho-ho, really?”

Krillin’s palm met his forehead with a loud smack. He glared at Gohan as it slid down his face. “Yeah, because _you_ blurted it out in front of everyone on the Lookout." Gohan lashed bashfully in a way that was so much like Goku's it almost hurt her to see it. "Anyone else you think needs to know? Hercule, maybe?”

“For what it’s worth, I think Miss 18 seems nice,” Dende added mildly, glancing in her direction. The other three followed his gaze. “She’s simply cautious with her feelings, like many humans from what I’ve learned.”

“You should just go over there and ask her, Krillin,” Bulma said, nudging her friend with her elbow. Krillin didn’t even notice, eyes elsewhere. “What? Is she looking over here? That’s great!”

“No, Vegeta’s glaring at 18.” The scowl looked entirely out of place on Krillin’s face. “He better not be thinking about trying to get revenge.”

“Revenge? For killing him in the future?”

“No, when they first woke up, he picked a fight with her. She broke both his arms.”

Bulma raised an eyebrow and stared in the prince’s direction. He had neglected to mention that. He was definitely glaring in the cyborg’s direction, and she was definitely aware of it, for all that she was on the verge of drinking Yamcha under the table. 

“Don’t worry Krillin, the Prince of all Grouches won’t start anything at one of my parties if he knows what’s good for him.” Bulma placed a reassuring hand on Krillin’s shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, sure thing, Bulma,” Krillin mumbled absently, before heading in 18’s direction. Bulma noticed the woman had glanced in their direction just before, although Bulma hadn't seen any other gesture or signal. 

Krillin arrived just as Yamcha threw back one final shot, then toppled out of his chair. 18, not looking even slightly affected, threw back the drink in front of her, and greeted Krillin with a smile and a raised palm. Krillin completed the high five like it was the most natural thing in the world. The two of them helped Yamcha sit up.

Even so, it didn’t escape Bulma’s notice Krillin placed himself between 18 and Vegeta. She decided to go have a “chat” with Vegeta. Remind him of his promise to behave.

* * *

18 came to earth gently in the middle of a small clearing in the woods. The clearing was empty, except for the partially constructed cabin her brother apparently called home now. 17 was hammering away on the roof, trying to get it finished.

“Hey sis, nice to see ya,” 17 said without looking up. “I thought you’d forgot all about me.”

18 rolled her eyes. “Yes, how rude of me not to come visit your half-finished man shack in the middle of nowhere. The one you only told me you were building last week.”

Her brother gave her his best shit-eating grin. Her knuckles itched. 

Ignoring, or more accurately reveling, in her irritation, 17 responded, “Exactly! You could have come visit last week!”

“And you could have come visit me any time in the last six months. You know where I live.”

“I didn’t want to give your roomies heart attacks. Not after how they acted last time I visited.”

“You showed up making a huge tidal wave and yelling you were here to _‘Kill all humans and talking pigs,’_ ” 18 said flatly.

“It was just a joke!” 17 defended. “So why are you here?”

“To check on you, dumbass. Are you really going to live out here?” She surveyed their surroundings skeptically.

17 nodded proudly. “Absolutely! It’s great being out in nature.”

“Riiiight. And the guy with no attention span who demands constant stimulation isn’t going to get insanely bored out here. You know if you go crazy and start killing people Gohan can kill you instantly, right?”

“I’m not gonna do that, sis. Dinosaurs are a lot more fun than humans. Besides, it’s not like I can’t fly to a place with people if I want.” He smirked, “Or did you forget that hanging out with the three perverts?”

17 barely finished his statement before 18 disappeared from where she’d been standing and reappeared in his face, glaring. “Krillin is _not_ a pervert.”

Neither of the siblings remembered much of their childhoods, but 17 had enough leftover “sibling sense” to know when he’d reached the line. He raised both hands placatingly. “Sorry sis, I misspoke. So how are the two perverts and. . . Krillin?”

She backed up, giving him a little space. “The old man and the pig are the same as always: Disgusting. Just leave their shit all over the place. But they know not to try anything now. I don’t even have to threaten them, just their stash of dirty magazines. Krillin’s. . . good.”

“That’s it?” 18 wasn’t a chatterbox, but to clam up that quickly, something was up.

“You care?”

“Well not about him, but you’re my baby sister. _Of course_ I’m interested in your life.” He said it in a deliberately snide tone, just to rile her up again.

“One, we’re twins, dumbass. And two, I’m pretty sure I’m the older twin.”

“How would you even know?”

“Because I’m not a complete child like you.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. You aren’t staying there because of the four-star accommodations. It’s not because of two-thirds of the company there, either. So what’s happening with the reason you do stay?”

“Nothing!” 18 answered. She knew she answered a little too quickly, but what was with everyone lately? “We talk, we share books, run errands on the mainland. Go visit his friends.”

“You’re hanging out with his friends?”

She shrugged. “He wants his friends to like me. It’s dumb, but they aren’t so bad.”

“Do they?”

Other than Vegeta, none of them seemed to hold a grudge over the whole “kicked their asses thing.” That probably counted, right? “Maybe. None of them try to kill me. What would I care, anyway?”

17 smirked. “If you don’t care, why hang out with them? Oh right, because the little baldy asked you to.” 

18 swatted him on the forehead, hard. It caught 17 off-guard and sent him tumbling off the roof. There was muffled thud, then a much dustier, scowling 17 floated back into sight.

“Real mature.”

* * *

18 returned from her visit to find Krillin sitting on the beach. His legs were stretched out in front of him so that the surf just barely reached the soles of his feet, and he was propped up on his arms, palms planted in the sand behind him.

He smiled up at 18 as she landed nearby. “How did your visit with 17 go?”

18 shrugged. “Fine. He really is building himself a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Next time I see him, he’ll probably have a scraggly beard and be wearing clothes he made out of animal hides. Or he’ll be a serial killer.”

“Maybe we should visit regularly. I bet we could be friends.” Krillin wasn’t actually sure of that, but he hadn’t been sure he and 18 could become friends, either. 

“You offering to be his first victim?”

Krillin laughed nervously. “No thanks, I’ve died horribly enough times already. I’d like my next death to be peaceful.”

“Relax, I wouldn’t really let him kill you. Not when I could send him after Roshi.” Krillin laughed. She continued, “He’s gonna be too busy rebuilding his cabin to do any serial killing, anyway.”

Krillin cocked his head confused. “Rebuilding it? I thought you said he was still building it?”

“I might have blown it up before I left.” At Krillin’s questioning look, she added. “Sibling thing.”

“Ah.” The pair went silent for a few minutes. 18 settled on the sand next to Krillin. He kept watching the ocean. 18 kept sneaking glances at him.

Finally, she worked up her nerve. “Hey Krillin?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we dating?”

He stared, dumbfounded. “I, buh, I –“

“Breathe, Krillin.”

He paused, took her suggestion. Tried again. “What made you ask that?”

“Everybody keeps hinting at it. Chi-Chi, Bulma, my dipshit brother. . .”

Krillin weighed his words. “Well, we do a lot of stuff together. Go to movies and dinner and things like that. Those are kind of like dates. But friends do that. Help each other through nightmares, sit and talk like this. But, friends do that, too.”

“So we aren’t dating.”

“I guess we could be. You know, if you wanted to be,” he added quickly, before turning his eyes towards his feet.

“If we were dating,” 18 began slowly, “we’d kiss and things like that. We don’t do that.”

“We, we could.” Krillin’s throat seemed to close to where his voice was barely a squeak. Even in the dim twilight, his face was clearly red.

18, trying to sound indifferent, said, “I think we should try it and see.”

Krillin’s head swiveled back to her, and 18 seized the opportunity. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. 

For a long, terrible second, he didn’t react, and 18 thought she’d made a horrible mistake. Then he tilted his head just a little to one side, making the sensation that much better, and brought one hand up to cup the side of her face.

When they eventually pulled back, 18 noted Krillin’s face had gotten even redder, and he wore a dopey grin on his face.

“You’re blushing,” he said. 

18 put one hand to her face. It did seem warmer. Weird. She wasn’t sure that could happen anymore.

“Does that mean it was good?”

18 smirked, leaned in again. “I don’t know. Could be fluke. We should try it again.”

_“Wooo-oooooh!”_

Both of them shot up at the sudden call and looked towards the house. Two sets of eyes peered at them from the window. (Turtle at least had the decency to give them privacy, holing up in his shell).

“Way to go, my boy!” Roshi called, standing up to pump his fist. “I always knew you had it in ya!”

“Are you nuts, old man?” Oolong hissed.

18 stood, very calmly. Swept her hair back behind her ear. Then she locked her eyes on the two peeping Toms. 

**“Run.”**

There was an instant flurry of activity in the house, cabinet drawers being pulled open accompanying panicked shouts of, _’where’s the capsule with aircar?!’_

18 took one step towards the house, paused, and turned back to Krillin, satisfied smile on her face.

“And now that they’re busy. . .”


End file.
